It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus
by The Batchild
Summary: CHRISTMASFIC2009. A Christmas story where Asher and Amelia attempt to help Sam and Dean unwind in what may have not been the best way.
1. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

I still don't own anything to do with **Supernatural**, but I still own Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. This holiday fic is rated for drinking, language, violence and kissing. Oh no! Anyways, enjoy. And happy holidays!

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**It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus  
**Chapter One: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

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The mountain town was small, and Asher couldn't remember the name of it, but she knew she didn't like it there. Not anymore anyway. It had been charming and quaint when she'd first arrived, and she'd appreciated the silence after the hustle and noise of Seattle and Hollywood before that. There was one main street where all the shops, hotels and other tourist spots were clustered, and the surrounding houses all looked like something out of a Christmas card. Asher and Amelia had been in the picturesque town for all of three days and had already met everyone of import and seen everything worth seeing. The hunters had been chasing what they thought was a werewolf, but what had turned out to be a stray, rabid dog. That had made Asher mad, and hearing that the police shot the animal that morning hadn't helped. To make matters worse, it had snowed all day, blocking the roads in and out of the town and the girls were now stuck in the middle of nowhere, confined to their hotel room. Or cabin, as it was.

The hotel was actually comprised of a large, old log cabin that various owners had added onto over the years, creating a very large and weirdly shaped building. It sort of looked like someone had suck a bunch of blocks together. Asher and Amelia's room was a large rectangle, and located at the back of the building. There were two huge windows above the beds that let in the light from the full moon while exposing an exquisite view of the mountainous country surrounding the village. The rest of the room was comprised of two queen-sized beds, a small kitchen and a couch, two chairs and a coffee table in one corner that formed a small seating area. It was covered in laundry, books, and papers and looked like the girls had been there for weeks.

Asher and Amelia had been in the hotel room all day after getting the news about the dog, and, as midnight approached, they were quickly running out of things to do. The internet at the hotel was done because of the snow, and they had already eaten their way through two pizzas and drank all their beer. Amelia had been reading for the past three hours and Asher had been pacing the room. She had a circuit: door to bathroom, bathroom to bed, bed to door and start all over again. Amelia had warned Asher she was going to wear a hole in the floor, but Asher had just given her the finger before starting her path again. Why had the stayed in the room all day? Because Amelia had managed to convince Asher taking a day off before heading out would be a good idea. And now they were stuck. Great idea indeed.

"I'm telling you Ash, we are stuck here for at least another day, so you might as well just chill out."

Never one to have complete control over her temper, Asher slammed her fists into the desk, knocking over a pile of books and almost spilling a candle onto the floor; Amelia had decided she wanted the room to spell like apples and cinnamon. "This is ridiculous! I want to get out of here!"

"I know, Ash. Me too," Amelia answered, flipping through a magazine casually. "We should do something for Christmas this year."

"Why?"

"Because it's been so long since we did anything beyond exchanging gifts. Gifts that have been, for the most part, guns or ammo of some kind. I want a real Christmas like we used to have."

"Amelia," Asher said as she came to a stop at the foot of her surrogate sister's bed, "when have we ever had a real Christmas?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. "We grew up with a hunter who was gone for three quarters of the year. And we weren't at the house for half the year. And if we were all together at Christmas, we never did anything beyond exchanging weapons and ammo and eating cheeseburgers together."

"Okay… Then we should have a real Christmas. Our first real Christmas together. We're family. We're supposed to celebrate the holidays together."

Asher flopped down on the floor, folding her legs underneath her as she moved. "How are we going to have a real Christmas?" she asked, perhaps with a little more ire than was necessary. "I mean, we're going to be stuck here for however long, but I want out of here as soon as possible. And Christmas is a week away, anyway, so chances are, we're going to be on the road by then. And we are so not decorating the truck." She sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair. "And… If we were going to do Christmas, I'd want to do it with all our friends."

"What? Like Sam and Dean?"

"And Bobby, Ellen, Jo… everybody."

Amelia smiled knowingly. "You just want to spend Christmas with Dean."

"Yeah? Well you wanna spend it with Sam."

"What?"

Asher shook her head. "Nevermind. Look, we just don't have a lifestyle that fits with Christmas. We can still exchange presents, but we can't do the dinner and everything. There just isn't time."

"Why are you so against having Christmas?"

She shot her sister a hard look. "I'm not _against _it, Amelia. I just… I don't see how we could have a 'real' Christmas at this point. Maybe one year… Oh, I don't know, Amelia. Maybe we'll figure something out." Asher huffed and fell backwards. She ended up staring at the polished wooden planks of the ceiling. For a long time, neither of the girls said anything. Eventually, she sighed and ran her fingers back through her black hair. "I'm calling Bobby."

Amelia closed the magazine and dropped it on the bed beside her. "Why? What's calling Bobby going to do? He's not going to want to have Christmas anymore than you do, or, at least he's going to agree with you and say that we don't have the time or whatever to have Christmas, _and_ he can't do anything to get us out of here any quicker." Amelia slid down on the bed until she was lying on her back, and pulled her cowboy hat off her head to cover her face. She was grumpy. "He's good, but he's not magic," she snapped.

"I know that, Amelia. I just want to talk to him. It's been a while since we saw him." Asher took a deep breath, and then dialed Bobby Singer's number from memory. He had been a friend of Austin's and since meeting and getting to know Sam and Dean Winchester, who were also friends' of Bobby's, the girls had grown a lot closer with the older hunter. "Hey Bobby, it's Asher," she said once the phone connected.

_"Hey Ash. Did you catch that werewolf you were chasing?" _There was a scraping noise, like Bobby was moving a chair or something. _"It sounded pretty bad when Amelia called." _

Asher grabbed a pillow off her bed and stuck it under her head on the floor. She wasn't sure why she was lying on the floor, but currently it was more comfortable than the bed for some reason. "No, we didn't catch it. And it wasn't a werewolf, anyway. It turned out to be just a rabid dog killing animals and attacking people."

_"That's one I've never heard before." _

"I know. I wasn't exactly thrilled about that either. The police shot the dog this morning, so we have nothing to do here." Asher sighed and covered her eyes with her hand. "I was just wondering if you had any news to share or anything. We're stuck up in this hole of a mountain town. It snowed a lot today and we're stuck until it melts or they plow the roads. And we're going insane. We've already started arguing about Christmas."

_"No, I haven't got anything to share. Oh, Dean and Sam are pretty close to where you guys are though." _

"Are they? It's been months since we saw them. How are they?"

_"I spoke to them this morning. They're okay; still in one piece. But I think they need to take a break." _

"What do you mean?"

"Hey Ash, put Bobby on speaker," Amelia called from across the room. Clearly, she had figured out Asher and Bobby were talking about the Winchester brothers.

Asher unfolded herself and rose out of the chair. "Hold on Bobby. Amelia wants me to put you on speaker phone." Once she got the man's okay, Asher pulled the phone away from her head and pressed the button to switch the call. She sat on the end of Amelia's bed and put the phone on the bed between them.

"Hey Bobby."

_"Hey Amelia. How're you doing?" _

"About as well as can be expected since I'm stuck in this hotel room with Asher."

"Hey."

_"I'm sure you two will survive. Either that or you'll tear each other to ribbons. And what's this arguing about Christmas?" _

"We were arguing about whether or not to have a celebration of any kind. But that argument has passed," she said with a bit of a warning look at Amelia. The look turned into a wolfish grin and Amelia stuck her tongue out in response. "Anyways, Bobby, you said something about the boys needing a break. What did you mean?" The werewolf hunter lay down on her side and propped her head up on her hand. "Are they finally admitting they're insane? Or have they finally decided to have a knock-down, drag-out, fight to the death." Asher ignored Amelia's eye roll.

Bobby sighed. _"Sam and Dean have been hunting none stop for a few months; I don't even remember the last time they took a break. Dean keeps finding new things for them to investigate. He's usually got a new hunt lined up almost before they're finished their current one." _There was a pause. "_Needless to say, their nerves are getting pretty frayed, and the last time I spoke to them, they got in a fight while we were on the phone. I think it was about what kind of pizza they were going to order. Dean wanted bacon or something and Sam said no. The four of you are a lot alike, actually." _Bobby sighed again, and Asher could picture him scratching his beard like he did when he was thinking. _"I haven't seen them like this since they were little. They just need some time to relax and Dean refuses to take any." _

Amelia met Asher's eyes over the phone, a devious grin splitting her lips. "Hey Bobby, you said they were nearby, right?"

_"Yeah. What are you two thinking?" _

"Well, I just thought of something that would give the boys a break and we could do something for Christmas. Can you get the boys to come up to whatever the hell this place is called?" Amelia asked. There was an eager light in her eyes, one that usually meant she was plotting.

_"Probably. Didn't you say it was snowed in though?" _

Asher snickered at a mental picture that popped into her head. "Bobby, if you tell them there's some supernatural baddie up here, they would go through hell to get here and stop it," she said, expressing said mental image. "They are just _that_ crazy and determined to rid the world of evil."

_"You're probably right. Yeah, I'll get the boys up there, but it'll take a few days, probably. It might help if you let me on your plan." _

"We will Bobby," Amelia said. "We've got to figure out the details, and your copious amounts of knowledge will help us make this realistic." She kept smiling that devious grin. "But don't worry. It's not dangerous and it _will _help Sam and Dean, and us."

"Yeah, it'll make this hell hole fun."

_"Something tells me I should be worried." _

"Us? Plot something worth worrying about? Never." Finally catching the direction her sister was going, Asher's grin shifted into something equally as devious. "It's just a Christmas present, Bobby. We just need some… information from you."

_"Okay. I'm worried."_

* * *

**Author's Note.**

It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus – Harry Connick Jr., When My Heart Finds Christmas  
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear – Frank Sinatra, Christmas With the Rat Pack

So the titles in this fic are going to be Christmas carols, just 'cause that's fun. And I really wanted to do a fic this year because the one I had planned for last year didn't work out so well. But this one is Supernatural, so it'll work and it's great. There are only going to be five short-ish chapters, because it's just a short little fun thing.

Oh, and I don't know where exactly this takes place time-wise, but let's just say it's somewhere within the confines of the show, shall we?

Hope you all enjoy it.

**Next Chapter: There Are Much Worse Things to Believe In. **


	2. There Are Much Worse Things

I still don't own anything to do with **Supernatural**, but I still own Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. This holiday fic is rated for drinking, language, violence and kissing. Oh no! Anyways, enjoy. And happy holidays!

* * *

**It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus  
**Chapter Two: There Are Much Worse Things to Believe In.

* * *

_The next night… er, morning… er… early, early morning…_

"A Bon Jovi ringtone? Really?"

Ignoring the quip, Dean gestured for Sam to answer his phone before turning his eyes back to the road. He was driving, and it was snowing. It was also windy, the gusts blowing a curtain of white across his field of vision every few seconds and the Impala's wiper blades were working overtime to try and keep at least a small section of the window clean. Dean really wasn't keen on crashing his beloved car, but they had been driving for hours and had yet to find some place they could stay. Mountain country was so desolate.

Sam answered Dean's phone with a practiced flip. "Hello? Hold on Bobby. I'll put you on speaker. Dean's driving and it's snowing up here. We can barely see out the window." He pressed a button on the black phone and held it over the middle of the bench seat. "Go ahead Bobby."

_"You boys need to head to a small town named Raid. It's in the mountains where you idgits were headed the last time I spoke to you." _

"Why?" Sam asked. "What's there?"

_"Well the girls for one thing. Amelia and Asher managed to get a hold of me a while ago, but it was just for a minute. Their cell cut out. They said something about a shapeshifter or what they thought was a shapeshifter that's been terrorizing the village for the past three or four days." _

"And they can't handle it?" Dean scoffed. It was unlike Asher and Amelia to call for help, if only because Asher's ego and temperament usually prevented them from doing so.

_"Apparently not. I know you're thinking this sounds off, Dean, but the girls sounded really scared." _

Dean had indeed been thinking there was something off about the call, but hearing that Asher—the fiery, temperamental werewolf of a hunter—was scared changed things. That girl didn't scare easily, and it wasn't just because of the werewolf in her veins. Dean had known her before she was bitten, and she had always been hot-headed and stubborn and fearless. The only thing he knew that scared her was being tied up, and he was almost positive if a shapeshifter had captured Asher and her sister, neither of them would be using a phone. No, if they had been captured, they probably would have been bound, gagged and blindfolded in the shapeshifter's underground lair.

"I found the village on the map, Bobby. With this weather, it's probably going to take us at least an hour or two to get there. More if they snow gets worse in the mountains." Sam folded the map noisily, until he was holding a square of paper, highlighting the area they were driving in. "Will they be okay?"

_"Yeah, probably. They weren't in any immediate danger, but I couldn't get a real sense of what was going on through all the static in the phone call." _Bobby sighed loudly. _"You'll just have to get there as soon as you can, I guess." _

"We will."

Sam looked across the seat at Dean. His brother's face was set in a determined line, as it had been since the snow had started, but there was something else underneath it all: urgency. As he recognized what he was seeing, Sam knew his brother would do anything to get them into Raid, and it wasn't just because there was some supernatural fiend terrorizing its citizens. It was because Asher and Amelia were there, and the girls were two of the few people in the world they could trust, and who they would go into hell for. The younger Winchester said goodbye to Bobby and hung up the phone, vaguely disturbed by the quiet that had settled around the interior of the car. Afraid to break it, Sam turned his face to the map, lit his small flashlight and studied the routes, trying to find one that might be a little better than the road they were currently traveling on.

"You're not going to find anything better than the main road," Dean snapped.

"I didn't think so, but it doesn't hurt to look."

They were quiet for a long time. Dean's eyes didn't leave the road, and Sam stared alternately at the road, his brother and the map in his lap. The snow didn't lessen and the wind seemed to pick up, the classic car rocking with each fierce gust. As they climbed higher into the mountains, the heater strained to keep the inside of the car tolerable and the boys huddled deeper in their jackets. In the mountains, the darkness pressed around them, and it was only then Sam became aware of just how late it was; or rather, early. It was closing in on two in the morning and they hadn't slept since the day before, aside from naps in the car as the other brother drove. There was no way they would park the car anywhere and go to sleep. They had seen far too much for that.

"Leave it to Asher and Amelia to get themselves into trouble in the place that's the hardest to get to," Dean said eventually. There was an edge of laughter to his voice.

Sam nodded. "Do you think it's a shapeshifter?"

"Well, since Bobby couldn't get much information from them, we'll really have to wait until we get there, but I'm going to give the girls the benefit of the doubt. They aren't amateurs, after all."

"True."

They lapsed into silence again. It was hard to keep up a conversation when the possibility of sliding off the road or down the mountain was very real and looming over your head. The road they were driving on disappeared around a sharp shelf of rock. The darkness was even thicker between the peaks. Around the bend in the road, however, a pool of light spread out from a large building nestled against the rock. The standard configuration of a motel spread out from one side, curving with the shape of the rock wall, and providing an interesting effect. Dean turned into the nearly empty parking lot, coming to a stop directly in the middle in the puddle of light.

"What are we doing?" Sam asked as they climbed out into the pressing darkness.

"Asking some questions." Dean pulled his handgun out of the car and shoved it down the back of his pants, hiding the weapon with his leather coat. The wind blew his unzipped coat around and the gun remained invisible. "If there is something strange going on around here, chances are everyone in the surrounding area has heard about it."

Sam followed suit, putting his own gun down the back of his pants, out of sight, before they started across the parking lot, heading for the building where all the light was coming from. As they neared the door, faint music reached their ears. It was a familiar tune, and had the feeling of a Christmas carol or song. Sam opened the door, and sure enough, the words to "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" flooded into the night. There was a young woman leaning on the counter, flipping through a magazine, softly singing under her breath. The familiar grin split Dean's face as they headed through the heavily decorated room; green, red and gold glinted at them from every available surface. Someone here liked Christmas.

Realizing she was no longer alone in the room, the girl looked up and smiled, the expression reaching her wide, brown eyes. "Welcome to the Mountainside Inn. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, actually. We're looking for the town of Raid," Dean said, turning on his charm. Sam rolled his eyes behind his brother's back, but no one seemed to notice. "Are we headed in the right direction? We're meeting some friends there."

The woman took a step back from the counter and blinked at them, confused. "Why would your friends be there? Have you not heard the news coming out of Raid?"

"Uhm… no?"

"There's some creep running around dressed up like Santa scaring the crap out of little kids. He even attacked some poor woman from out of town—"

Mind instantly jumping to the worst conclusion, Sam asked, "Do you know the name of that woman?"

"No… I can't recall. Sorry." The young woman leaned on the counter and stared at them intently. "It's probably not a good idea to go into Raid."

"Has anyone called the police?"

"Yes. The state police came when the locals couldn't find anything, but they didn't find anything either. No one seems to be able to figure out who the creep is. Raid is small enough that everyone knows everyone else who lives there, but big enough that it attracts tourists so there's a large part of the population that's mobile." She sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair. "The local cops came out here to tell the guests to go home, just in case the freak makes his way out here."

"How far are we from Raid?" Sam asked.

"About an hour. You're not seriously thinking about going there? Not after all I've said?"

"Well, we might be able to offer an… insight the cops haven't thought of yet," Dean explained, digging out the FBI badge he kept in his pocket for just such an occasion. "My name is Agent King, and this is my partner, Agent Brown. We've been chasing this man across the country."

Her eyes widened, her shock becoming more pronounced. "Is this man more dangerous than the cops said he was?"

"It's possible. Thankfully, he hasn't escalated to killing or raping anyone yet, but that's not far off, according to our profilers." Sam slipped into his FBI personality, cleared his throat and said, "Thank you for your help, Miss…"

"Sanders."

"Miss Sanders. Please stay inside and make sure all your doors and windows are locked. Someone will notify you when we've apprehended the criminal." She nodded at Sam, turned her eyes to Dean and nodded again. There was something frantic about her movements that hadn't been there before. Ever the empathic one, Sam offered the friendliest smile he could muster. "We didn't mean to alarm you Miss Sanders."

"It's… It's fine. Just unexpected."

"Things like this are never expected. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got to get to Raid."

"Yes… Well, good luck, I guess."

"Thanks," Dean said before crossing the room, back to the door. Sam fell in step beside him and as the chilly night wind hint them once again, Dean turned to his brother. "A shapeshifter disguising himself as Santa Claus? Is that even possible?"

"I don't think we're allowed to ask that question, Dean. The things we face aren't supposed to exist."

Dean huffed, the expression taking over a face a familiar one to Sam. Over the past few months, Dean had been reaching the end of his patience. He was getting tired of chasing monsters across the country and having no one thank him for his hard work. He was tired of running himself into the ground and not being acknowledged for all he was doing. Truth be told, Sam was feeling the same way, but he wasn't as vocal or as bitter about it as Dean was. Sam knew what he was up for when he agreed to hunt again after Jessica's death. He remembered. Dean had been hunting since before he hit puberty. Dean had never had a chance to be a normal child. Sam at least had gone off to college. He had had a bit of a break. Dean had been hunting non-stop for his whole life. And he was tired of it.

"All I want for Christmas, Sammy, is a break."

"I hear you."

They climbed into the car and drove back onto the mountain road, into the darkness and into the distance, huddling in their coats as the heater fought to once again bring the inside of the car up to a bearable temperature. The snow had died down a little, and wasn't blowing around quiet as much; you could almost see the road. Sam had taken over driving to give Dean a chance to catch a few zees, and judging by the log-sawing he was doing, Dean was doing just that. It would take longer than an hour to get to Raid with the wind gusting as fast as it was, but Sam was content to settle into the silence and just drive.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, when it was almost four o'clock in the morning, Sam pulled into Raid. It had finally stopped snowing and the wind had died down to something a little less than a dull roar. He drove slowly along the unplowed roads to the only hotel in Raid: The Snowfall Hotel. He climbed out of the car and the first thing he saw through the haze of sleep was Asher's monstrous black truck parked at the other end of the parking lot. It made sense they were staying at this hotel, since it was the only one in town, but something about the truck, the only other car in guest lot, seemed a little ominous. He woke Dean up by shoving his shoulder and then headed towards the main building, a half-asleep Dean following behind him, rubbing his eyes.

The reception desk was covered in garland and small red and white lights. There was a large wreath hanging on the wall behind the sleeping receptionist's head, and an enormous tree set up beside a fireplace and a small seating area. Dean hit the bell, and the receptionist—a young man this time—fell out of his chair.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. Do you need a room?" he stammered.

"Yeah, but we're also hoping you can answer a few questions," Sam said. Evidently he was taking point on this one. Dean looked like he was going to fall asleep standing up.

"I can try, I guess…"

"Okay. What can you tell me about this rumour about a man dressed as Santa Claus sneaking around town?"

"Not much. Probably nothing more than you've heard." The boy paused and rubbed his face. "He showed up a few days ago. A little girl woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or something and saw this man standing in the corner, dressed in a Santa costume. Apparently he asked her if she'd been a good little girl or what she wanted for Christmas, or something like that and she ran screaming for her mom and dad." He looked up at Sam. "Since then, he's been seen in four or five houses and no one can catch him. No one can even figure out who he is."

"Uh, thanks. You're right, that isn't much new information, but thank you anyway. Now, about that room?"

"Sam?! Oh thank God!" He turned and saw Asher standing in a doorway by the seating area. Her black hair was in disarray, and her eyes were swollen and red. There was a sheen on her cheeks, like she'd just been crying. She was wearing black skinny jeans with one knee missing, and a red tank top. The thigh sheath was in place, but the sawed off shotgun she was so fond of was absent. It was unlike her to go unarmed. She crossed the room at almost a run and fell into Sam's arms, clinging to his shirt like it was a lifeline. "He's got Amelia!" she spat.

"What?"

At his brother's exclamation, Dean, who had indeed fallen asleep standing up, started awake. He found Asher, and she immediately went to him, pressing her face into his chest. Startled, he wrapped her arms around the obviously distraught woman and gently led her to the seating area, pulling her down to the couch. Sam sat in one of the armchairs and watched Asher rebuild herself. The hunter was normally so strong, and seeing her fall apart was unsettling. When she pushed herself away from Dean, she was in control of her emotions, and she fixed the boys with a significantly worried glance.

"The shapeshifter," she whispered. "He's got Amelia. We went out after him last night and we got separated. I've already been through the sewer and most of the basements in town… I can't find him."

"Has he killed anyone yet?" Dean asked. His hand was still on Asher's arm.

She shook her head. "But that doesn't mean he won't. He's taken a lot of Christmas things though… This is so weird. I don't know what to do. And now he's got Amelia…" Asher bit off another sob and bit her lip. "I just don't know what to do."

"Relax Ash. I promise we'll figure something out." Dean slipped his arm around Asher's waist and pulled her to him in an embrace and Sam leaned forward to place a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. "We won't let that creep kill Amelia, and we won't let him terrorize anymore children."

* * *

**Author's Note.**

There Are Much Worse Things to Believe In – Stephan Colbert & Elvis Costello, A Colbert Christmas

Okay, so I couldn't find an actual spelling of Bobby's favourite term of endearment, so I settled for "idgit", because it's almost like "idiot", but with different letters. But that is what he's saying.

Best. Word. Ever. (goofy grin)

Oh, and this is set at least before they meet up with Castiel in the show, just because some things would have changed if it was after that, and I don't want to give those away, when they're pretty important to my main Supernatural fic.

**Next Chapter: Santa Claus is Coming to Town. **


	3. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

I still don't own anything to do with **Supernatural**, but I still own Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. This holiday fic is rated for drinking, language, violence and kissing. Oh no! Anyways, enjoy. And happy holidays!

* * *

**It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus  
**Chapter Three: Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

* * *

Asher led the way back to the room her and Amelia were staying in after she was together enough to remember the way. Sam and Dean followed a step behind her and exchanged a curious glance. Something must have been seriously bothering the werewolf hunter in front of them, something beyond her surrogate sister being kidnapped, for her to be so out of sorts. Once they were in the room at the back of the building, Dean stretched out on the bed he knew was Asher's, tucked his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. The expression on his face contradicted the relaxed stance his body was in. Sam, on the other hand, looked as tense, sitting on the edge of the other bed, as his facial expression said he was.

"Do you mind if we get a few hours sleep, Ash?" Dean asked. His voice was lower and more serious than it usually was. "We've been up for a really long time."

"Yeah, whatever… It's not like we can do anything about Amelia right now anyway. We don't have a lead or anything to go on." She dropped onto the bed beside Dean and leaned backwards against the pillows. "You guys get some sleep… I guess I'll just stay up and try to find something in the notes Amelia took."

Sam offered a sympathetic half-smile before kicking off his boots and taking off his jacket. He dropped his bag on the floor beside the bed and dropped onto the pillow, asleep almost before he was lying down. Dean gave Asher almost the same comforting grin before removing his jacket and boots as well. When he lay down though, Asher sank onto the pillows beside him and stared at him, her blue eyes wider and more filled with horror then he'd ever seen them.

"I'm scared, Dean," she whispered.

He placed a hand on her cheek. "I know. I promise you we'll save her, okay?" When she nodded, Dean gave her a smile more reminiscent of his usual self and then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. He felt Asher squeeze his forearm and then the bed shifted as she got up and then he fell asleep.

Four hours later, Dean awoke. He slid off the bed and stretched before he noticed Asher curled up in the chair. She had moved the chair to the corner of the room so she could see the door, both windows and into the bathroom. She was awake and sitting in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. He walked over to stand in front of her. She looked up at him with the same horror-filled eyes from before. Before either of them could say anything, however, Sam woke up and yawned loudly.

"Did you find anything in Amelia's notes?" he asked.

Asher shook her head. "There are still a few basements I haven't checked. So maybe we'll find something there." She unfolded herself and got to her feet. "Truth be told, I feel better doing this with you guys here. Going into all those basements and through the sewer by myself was kind of unsettling. I've never gone after anything like that alone before."

"You could have called us," Dean said.

"I tried. Your phone wasn't getting reception or something."

"Okay. Well, let's get ready and go." Dean crossed the room back to where he had dropped his bag and started pulling out his weapons.

Asher slid her sawed off shotgun into the sheath on her thigh and tucked a handgun into her belt at the small of her back. A knife went into a small sheath on her boot after she pulled them on, and she slid a switchblade into her pocket. Both blades were silver and Dean knew the bullets in her guns would be as well. Once he and Sam were similarly armed with silver weapons capable of hurting a shapeshifter as well as anything else they ran into, Dean led the way from the room to the parking lot and the group climbed into the Impala. From the back seat, Asher gave directions to the basement most likely to be hiding the shapeshifter's lair: the basement of an abandoned house on the outskirts of the small mountain town.

It took twenty minutes to drive through Raid and along the dirt road to get to the house. It was a two-storey building that, at one point, had been painted a cheerful yellow. There were white shutters, now browning and hanging lopsidedly on rusted hinges. Someone had made an attempt at boarding the place up, but time and rowdy teenagers had pulled most of them down, leaving several windows open. Oddly, no one had gone in the front door. Someone, probably someone under the influence of a large amount of alcohol had written "Merry Christmas Losers" in red and green spray paint across the front of the house.

The entrance to the basement was outside, like an old storm cellar. The wooden doors were still intact, but they had been removed from their hinges and were lying beside the stairs. Asher went down the concrete steps first, her shotgun out in front of her in a cross grip with a small flashlight. Dean followed her, his favoured handgun out and ready and Sam brought up the rear with his gun and another flashlight. It smelled like mould and dampness and there was a faint undercurrent of sewage. Dark lumps sat against the walls and no one wanted to investigate them further, but that was part of the job. Asher swung her flashlight around until it came to rest of a particularly large lump of something red, white and skin-coloured.

"Looks like we found his lair. Or a temporary one, anyone," Dean said.

The lump was a pile of skin wrapped in the sleeve of a Santa jacket.

Asher gave an involuntary shutter and turned away from the repulsive mass. She swallowed her gag reflex and then turned to the boys. "Well," she croaked, "unless he's become something very small or is capable of becoming invisible, he's not here now."

When they were back out in the overcast light, standing on the deep layer of snow, Asher sighed heavily and squatted, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her shotgun was still in one hand, as was the flashlight, although it was no turned off. Sam stood close enough that the distraught woman could lean back against his legs. Dean stood nearby, more for warmth than anything else and tried to think of some answer to give her.

"Is there anywhere else you haven't checked?" he asked.

"Just a few of the basements in town. But this was the most likely, and by that mess we found, it seems he's disguising himself as someone in town during the day."

"He could be anyone…" Sam mused unnecessarily.

"Well, let's head back into town and see if we can't find someone who has seen something weird in the last few days." Dean trudged back to the Impala, muttering about the deep snow and his now wet jeans.

Someone—probably a local with a plow on his truck—had cleared most of the roads once the snow had stopped, so driving wasn't impossible, but it still wasn't easy, especially in the Impala. Asher thought they should have taken her truck, but Dean debunked that idea, insistent that his car had never let him down before. They made it back into town, all of them still in one piece each, and found a parking spot outside one of Raid's tourist attractions: a spa. Regardless of the crappy weather, there were still several cars in the guest parking lot.

The reception area was all white and gold, with hints of red and was very fancy-Christmas. Smiling a smile that looked all too artificial, a middle-aged woman with a Christmas-coloured bow in her from-a-box red hair welcomed the trio to the Glenfield Day Spa and asked what services they were after. It was Sam who took point. He was better at dealing with people.

"Actually, we just wanted to talk to you," he said, flashing his most charming smile.

"Oh. Well, okay. What would you like to know?" she asked, shifting a little bit and fidgeting with some papers on the countertop. She was nervous. Or just really uncomfortable.

"Have you noticed anyone acting weird in the last few days?"

"What do you mean?"

"Anyone from around here. Have you noticed anyone acting abnormal?"

The woman's eyes flicked to Asher and then back down to the table in front of her. "Uhm… Not that I can think of. Wait." She paused, her mouth screwed up and her brows furrowed with thought. "Mr. Jackson. Normally he gets antisocial around this time of year. I think his wife died around Christmas. But this year, he's been going out of his way to get into the spirit." As if it had just occurred to her to look confused and curious, she looked up at Sam, her best look of thoughtfulness on her face. It highlighted wrinkles around her eyes.

"Is that all the weird behaviour he's shown?"

The woman nodded, her eyes darting to Asher again. "Yes. He's just been overly friendly and giving people gifts, which is something he's never done before."

"And where can we find Mr. Jackson?"

"He'll be at the candy store this time of day. He manages the place for Mrs. Allen. She's too old to handle everything by herself anymore."

Sam nodded and smiled his charming smile again. "Thank you."

The trio turned away from the desk and converged near a wall that was out of the path of the door. Asher leaned against the wall and looked over the desk clerk, who was watching them, genuine curiosity on her face now. "She's lying about something," she said.

"How can you tell?" Dean asked.

"Can't you see it in her face? She's forcing her reactions."

"Is this another werewolf thing? Sensing when people are lying?"

Asher managed to shoot Dean a nasty look. "No, you ass, it isn't. It's just years of dealing with people who lie. Like you."

Sam stepped away from their little huddle at that moment and took a step down the hall which led further into the spa. Asher and Dean turned in tandem, trying to locate what had caught the younger Winchester's attention. "Asher… isn't that Amelia over there?" he asked, pointing to a young woman at the end of the hall, who was wearing a fluffy white robe and slippers. There was a towel wrapped around her head, concealing her hair.

After a minute, Asher took several steps forward and looked at the woman, who was talking to one of the employees of the spa. A shadow of hope crossed her face. "No…" she breathed.

"What was that about?" Dean snapped at his brother.

"Sorry, but it really looked like Amelia."

"Why would Asher tell us her sister was kidnapped if she wasn't?"

"Sorry." Sam turned to Asher and shrugged.

"It's okay, Sam. It does look like her," Asher said before Sam could apologize again. "Let's just go talk to this Mr. Jackson, all right? Let's at least try to find something useful before we have to stay up all night and try to find this thing the hard way."

Mr. Jackson was indeed at the candy store. The trio found him helping a little boy fill up a paper bag with candy from the barrels and displays set up around the room. He was wearing an apron with a picture of Santa's head on it, underneath the words "Ho! Ho! Ho!" It was very festive and matched the glowing smile on his face. There was something vaguely creepy about the amount of joy on his face. He looked up as the door chimed and smiled at Dean, Sam and Asher.

"Welcome folks. Are you looking for something in particular today?"

Again, Sam stepped up. People skills were something Dean and Asher could stand to improve on. Okay, to be fair, they were both fairly skilled when it came to intimidation and Dean could usually charm information out of woman, but more generalized people skills might have been a good thing to have. "Actually, we were wondering if you could answer a few questions. We're looking for our friend who's gone missing."

"Oh, how terrible. Well, maybe I've seen them. What's your friend look like?"

"She's about five foot four with blonde hair and she likes to wear cowboy hats."

The man pondered the description for a few minutes. "Nah, I don't recall seeing anyone like that around here. Someone wearing a cowboy hat would stick out too, especially in this blasted weather."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Have you seen anyone who sticks out? Amelia isn't one to blend in to the crowd."

"Nope. Things have been pretty normal around here, except for the snow storm." Mr. Jackson cleared his throat. "Where are you folks staying? I can send word if I see anyone who looks like your friend."

"We're at the Snowfall Hotel, room 213."

"All right. I hope you find her."

Instead of saying anything, Sam just nodded again and headed for the door, Dean and Asher in tow. They didn't stand in the biting air, but slid into the Impala where Dean started the engine and turned on the heat so they could talk in relative comfort.

"It looks like the overnight stakeout is our only option now."

Asher leveled her blue eyes on Dean. It looked like she was going to start something, but she swallowed whatever ire she was feeling and settled into the back seat with a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're right. Let's hope this freak decides to wreak some more havoc tonight, or else I start interrogating people."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

They drove back to the hotel room to catch a few hours of rest. Dean and Sam took turns staying awake and keeping watch. So far the shapeshifter had only been active at night, but that didn't mean he wouldn't change his plans, especially if he caught wind of the hunters investigating him. When the sun had set, the hunters of the supernatural once again climbed into the frigid cabin of the Impala and started a slow circuit of the small mountain town. Asher hadn't argued to take her truck this time; the Impala made much less noise, and when you were trying to surprise a preternatural baddie, silence was key.

The intrepid trio was finishing their fifth pass of the spa they'd visited earlier before anything suspicious happened. On top of a nearby roof, a figure is silhouette rose, a familiar hat visible in the outline and a lumpy thing resembling a sack slung over the shoulder. Dean brought the car to a stop several feet away from the house, but didn't turn it off. Sam slid out, gun aimed up, followed by Asher.

Her foot slipped on a patch of ice and the werewolf hit the ground, her hip banging against the car on the way down.

The noise alerted the faux-Santa and it bolted.

Dean quieted the Impala's engine and took off after the beast, withdrawing his gun as he shoved the keys in one pocket. Sam didn't wait for Asher, either, just followed his instincts and ran after his brother and the thing that had Amelia.

It slid off the roof and took off at an incredibly fast pace, but nothing superhuman. Of course, neither of the Winchester boys had ever seen any evidence of shapeshifters being capable of any other feats beyond adopting someone else's shape. They kept pace, but were unable to take a shot; firing while running would heighten the possibility of a stray bullet hurting an innocent, and stopping to take a proper shot would probably let the thing get away.

So they chased.

They followed a path winding through houses and shops, down roads and alleys and finally, into the forest. The thing made a large loop and started to head back to town about the time Dean started to slow down. Sam kept going for a bit, but by the time they were running through Raid again, he had lost speed and the Santa-shapeshifter was too far ahead to catch. Sam sighted down his weapon and was actually squeezing the trigger before he realized something was very wrong with what he was seeing. At the end of the road, he could see the Impala, and beyond that, the shapeshifter. The passenger door of the car was still open.

There was no Asher with the car.

Dean came to a stop beside his brother. "Damn it! It got away!" He looked at Sam. "What's with that look?"

He pointed towards the car. "Asher's gone."

* * *

**Author's Note.**

This chapter was written in between many fits of giggling. That's all you have to know.

**Next Chapter: Midnight Christmas Eve. **


	4. Midnight Christmas Eve

I still don't own anything to do with **Supernatural**, but I still own Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. This holiday fic is rated for drinking, language, violence and kissing. Oh no! Anyways, enjoy. And happy holidays!

* * *

**It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus  
**Chapter Four: Midnight Christmas Eve.

* * *

Dean stood quiet still for a moment, staring at the spot in the snow where Asher had fallen. Sam moved forward and Dean followed after taking another minute to comprehend what he was seeing. There were signs of a struggle in the snow by the car, and Asher's shotgun was lying on the ground, as if she'd pulled it out to defend herself and the shapeshifter had knocked it out of her hand before she could use it. Dean picked up the gun and closed the door before walking around the car before climbing into the driver's seat and placing the gun on the bench seat between him and Sam. Once his brother was in the car, Dean started the engine and drove off, slowly, so he could follow the trail in the snow. It was deep and looked as if the thing had been dragging Asher, likely unconscious, behind it.

"Why did it take her?" Sam asked.

Dean snapped out of the daze he'd fallen into. "What?"

Sam looked across the seat at his other brother. "Dean, why would a shapeshifter kidnap someone?"

"I don't know. Maybe it wants to turn into her or something. I don't try and think like these monsters, Sam. I just stop them."

The younger Winchester bit off the retort he had in mind. It hadn't been that long since Dean wouldn't listen to Asher because she was a werewolf. It hadn't been that long since he had hated her on principle alone. "Asher will be all right, Dean. She's tough. They both are, and we know firsthand that they can take care of themselves."

Dean huffed and nodded, seemingly after having a mental debate. "You're right."

They drove for a bit in silence, Sam leaning against the door, so he could keep a better eye on the drag marks in the snow. The Winchesters followed the path to the edge of town and the beginning of the forest surrounding Raid. Dean parked the Impala to the side of the road, in the clear spot where the plow had turned around, and the boys got out, Sam with his handgun out, crossed over the flashlight in his other hand, and Dean with Asher's shotgun pointed out in front of him. Once they had past the tree line, Dean was glad for the light of Sam's flashlight, not only because it illuminated the path they were trying to follow, but also because, if they stumbled upon the shapeshifter, they'd know it by the reflection of light in its eyes.

The drag marks continued in a relatively straight line for a while before turning in a wide arc to the right. At the point where it turned, there were clear boot prints, like Asher had momentarily got away, but her victory hadn't lasted long; a few feet away from the boot prints, the drag marks resumed. There was a spot of bright red in the pristine white of the snow. It looked like blood mixed with spit, which meant the thing had hit Asher across the mouth to knock her unconscious.

Guns held a little higher and shoulders a little more tense, the Winchester brothers continued along the path, and after about fifteen more minutes of walking, just as their fingers were going numb from being wrapped around the grips of their guns and out in the cold, lights started to peek through the trees. They were heading back towards town. As they left the forest behind, it became clear they were on the other side of Raid from where they'd parked the Impala. The candy store where Mr. Jackson had worked stood to their left, all the windows dark, except for one light at the back, probably where the woman who owned it lived. The drag marks went around the back of the shop. The boys followed it, Dean in front.

The tracks disappeared into the storm cellar entrance. It was locked.

After handing the shotgun to Sam, Dean knelt in the snow and pulled out the slender leather case containing his lock picking tools. Quietly as he could, he withdrew the appropriate tools and set to work. It only took a minute or so for the lock to click open. Dean had a lot of practice.

He pulled the doors open, pleased to hear they didn't squeak. Whoever helped maintain the house did a good job. Once the stone steps were revealed, Dean took the sawed off back from Sam and started down, gun out in front of him in one hand and the other hand back, bracing against the steepness of the steps. Since Sam had to follow the same way, he settled for keeping the flashlight pointed forward; the handgun remained in his other hand, and it was a chore to not make much noise as he set the metal against the stone.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Sam scanned the room with the flashlight. There was nothing, save a few pieces of the gooey skin the shapeshifter shed every time it changed and a few boxes. They proceeded farther into the basement, but the light only revealed disused garden tools, broken appliances and a humongous chest, sealed with three padlocks. As Dean approached the chest, which was large enough to hide a person in, Sam turned his back to his brother and swept the basement again. Dean placed the sawed off on the ground beside his foot as he crouched, and pulled his own flashlight out of his pocket. Sam would let him know if he needed the gun. He set to work on the chest's locks.

When he got it open, there was nothing by clothes, mothballs and old books inside.

"Shit," Dean cursed. "There's no one in here."

"So why drag Asher all the way down here if this isn't where he was going to keep her?"

"I don't know. She could still be down here. Let's have a look around."

Flashlights out instead of guns, Sam and Dean spread out across the massive room. The floor was concrete, but there was dirt in the corners. No one could have been buried underground. On the other side of the wooden steps, they found a large cabinet. Before opening it, Sam switched the handgun to his dominant hand and used the muzzle of the weapon to open the aged wooden doors.

Inside, Asher's jacket hung from a twisted wire hanger.

Sam pulled the garment from the hanger and handed it to Dean. As he was turning away from the cabinet, he noticed another pile of the icky skin stuff sitting in the corner of the wooden container. But there didn't seem to be enough to indicate a complete shift. It looked like maybe an arm and part of the chest.

"They're not here," Sam stated.

"Looks like we're going to be spending most of the night underground, then." They climbed out of the basement, back into the snow. "Where do you think we should start?" Dean asked.

"How about in that general direction?" Sam suggested. He pointed across the lawns and up, towards the roof on another house.

Dean followed his brother's hand and, for the second time that night, saw the shapeshifter, dressed as Santa Claus, standing on top of a roof, staring at them. Without a second though, Dean sighted down the barrel of the sawed off shotgun and fired. The shapeshifter was too quick however and slid down the other side of the roof when it realized someone was pointing a gun at it. With a strangled scream of frustration, Dean started running, Sam close on his heels.

They ran around the house and out onto another street. The shapeshifter was still visible at the end of the street, just standing there.

"Is it waiting for us?" Sam asked, his voice slightly breathy.

"Looks like it. But why?"

"Maybe it's trying to lead us somewhere…"

"I say we follow it."

Dean started running again, finding his second wind somewhere. When he was about fifteen feet from the red-clad shifter, it turned on its heal and sprinted ahead. Sam kept pace with his brother, but, again, they could not run with their guns out. Silently, Dean wished the shapeshifter would head into the woods again, where he could run and shoot without the risk of hitting a civilian.

The shapeshifter led the Winchesters down the street, between more houses and up another street before they lost sight of it around their hotel. They searched through the allies and trees nearby, but they could not find it. As midnight rapidly approached, Sam and Dean trudged back to the Impala, ready to give up and get a few hours rest. If that was possible. They were both worried about Asher and Amelia, and the possibility that the shifter would attack another family or terrorize another child.

"Should we just give up?" Sam asked as they turned down the street where the hotel was located.

"We don't really have a choice. We haven't found anything yet, and if we keep searching while we're tired and angry, we're going to miss it, even if it's standing in the middle of the street."

"Huh. Rationality from you?"

"Shut up."

Dean parked the Impala in the back corner of the lot and climbed out, Asher's gun tucked under his jacket and her coat under his arm. They crossed the lot back to the front door—the only door open at this time of night—and entered the warmth of the lobby. As Dean's gaze fell upon the Christmas tree and other decorations, he made a small noise of realization.

"What?" Sam queried.

"I just realized it's Christmas Eve, that's all."

"Oh. Huh. You're right."

"Merry fucking Christmas," Dean spat.

The brothers headed down the hall towards room two thirteen, sour expressions on both their faces. Just inside the entrance to the hallway, Sam stopped and grabbed Dean's arm to keep him from walking further. "Look," he whispered.

Dean looked at the door, since it was the only thing he could see that would warrant any interest. At first it was just a door, a wooden door made of the same dark wood as the floors, but upon a second glance, he saw what had caught his brother's attention. Hanging on the doorknob was a gooey mass, slowly stretching towards the floor. As Dean stared at the disgusting thing, it fell to the floor with a loud, slurping noise, followed by a quiet squelch. Dean turned around and headed back to the reception desk.

"Where does that door lead?" he asked, pointing.

"To the basement. Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious…" Dean said, his voice turning distant as he looked at the door again, his eyes narrowed as if his gaze could burn a hole through the wood. He returned to Sam's side, grabbed the door knob and opened it without even bothering to look over his shoulder to see if the desk clerk was opposed to his actions.

At the bottom of the stairs, he and Sam had to turn down a narrow hallway. At the end of the hallways, they found another door, this one made of a cheaper wood and painted black. Another pile of the goopy flesh stuff sat on the group beside the lowest hinge. Dean grabbed hold of the doorknob and looked back at Sam, who had pulled his gun out again and had it pointed forward. Following his brother's example, Dean transferred the doorknob to his other hand in order to get the shotgun out into his dominant hand and pointed in the direction they were headed.

He swallowed. Took a moment to gather himself together.

And then he opened the door.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Oops. I forgot the song thing from the author's note last chapter. Let's try that again.

(Last Chapter) Santa Claus is Coming to Town – Harry Connick Jr., Harry for the Holidays.  
(This Chapter) Midnight Christmas Eve – Trans-Siberian Orchestra, The Christmas Attic.

So this chapter is a little shorter, but that's to be expected, since I didn't really plan this fic out. I just kind of started writing because I wanted to get a Christmas fic out this year.

The next chapter will be the last one. Should be lots of fun. And then I can add another fic to my completed list. Woo hoo!

**Next Chapter: Christmas is All Around. **


	5. Christmas is All Around

I still don't own anything to do with **Supernatural**, but I still own Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. This holiday fic is rated for drinking, language, violence and kissing. Oh no! Anyways, enjoy. And happy holidays!

* * *

**It Must've Been Ol' Santa Claus  
**Chapter Five: Christmas is All Around.

* * *

"Merry Christmas!"

Asher and Amelia snorted with laughter at the looks on the boys' faces. The older of the two slid off the workbench they'd been sitting on and, after taking a minute to steady herself, walked across the room, the nearly empty beer bottle sloshing noisily in her hand. Amelia guffawed behind her and then moaned when she spilled her beer down her front. Ignoring her surrogate sister, Asher moved in front of the Winchesters and took up as confident of stance as she could muster in her current state of inebriation.

"Merry Christmas," she said, her face less than three inches from Dean's.

Dean stared at her for a minute and then looked around. Asher watched as he took in the storage room, which looked nothing like one would expect. Asher and Amelia, but mostly Amelia, had turned the concrete space into something warm and inviting. There were white lights strung up, covering most of the wall space, except for a section on the far wall which had been left clear in order to hang four of the most mismatched stockings you could imagine. There was a small pine tree sitting in one corner, half-leaning on the wall and tied in place so it didn't fall over. It was decorated with some ornaments, but the scraggly collection was supplemented with tools and other items Asher and Amelia had dug up as they'd cleared the storage room; Amelia had even fashioned a star out of tinfoil and the silver thing shimmered in the reflections of all the lights. There were two presents sitting under the tree. Sitting on the workbench between the girls was a case of beer, a large platter with slices of pizza on half and cheeseburgers on the other half.

"What the hell is all this?" Dean asked in a quiet voice.

"It's fantastic," Sam said from behind him.

Asher smiled at Sam and then turned to Dean. "It's Christmas."

He rolled his eyes and fixed a stern look on her. "I got that. What I meant, is what the hell were you guys playing at? Making up a shapeshifter and pretending to get yourselves captured?"

"Well how else were we supposed to get you guys here?" Amelia asked from the table. "You would never have come if we'd said 'come up to this remote mountain village and hang out with us for Christmas'? You would have said something about all the people who could get hurt while you were doing nothing. Or something." Amelia paused and stared at her beer bottle. "This is empty," she finally declared before withdrawing another one.

"She's right you know," Asher chimed in. She took a swig from her own drink. "And once you got here, if we'd said 'oh, dude, we were just kidding', you would have gotten mad and left."

"So why did you do this?" Sam asked in a much more passive tone than Dean could have mustered at that point.

Asher shrugged with one shoulder. "We were talking to Bobby and he said something about you guys needing a break."

"So you staged this… hoax?"

"You bet'cha."

Dean grabbed Asher's wrist as she started to turn and pulled her around so she was facing him again. "You pretended to get captured by a shapeshifter for Christmas?" His voice was not happy.

"Dean, it's fine," Sam said in an effort to get his brother to calm down. "No one was hurt and I'm assuming the people in town were in on this?" He looked to Asher for confirmation, but she was locked in some sort of one-sided staring contest with the side of Dean's face, so he turned to Amelia. She nodded vigorously. "Everything's okay, and they're right. We never would have come up here if they'd told us the truth." He looked around the room. "And this is nice. We haven't a Christmas with more people than just you and me in a really long time."

The older Winchester sighed and let go of Asher's arm. "You two did all of this by yourself?"

"Bobby helped us with the planning," Amelia said. "Now, can we eat? The food is getting cooold."

"You two go ahead and eat," Asher said, gesturing vaguely at Sam and Amelia. "I still need to convince Grumpy here that this is a good thing."

Sam said, "Good luck," and then proceeded over to the converted workbench to help himself to pizza and beer. Asher grabbed Dean and pulled him over to one side of the room. The usual intensity of her stare was somewhat muffled by the alcohol in her system, but Dean go the message nonetheless. She was pissed off.

"Look, Ash, I'm sorry, but you can't tell me you don't understand why I'm angry."

"I didn't say that." She put her beer down on a table which was convenient at her right hand and rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I'm sorry we put you through all that stress, but it was the only way we could get you up here. And Bobby was worried you were going to crack under the stress. Or Sam," she added as an afterthought. "Amelia made some suggestion about the four of us doing something, and it just sort of… evolved into this whole mess when we were checking in with Bobby. I still can't believe we threw the whole thing together in as few days as we did."

"How did you get the people here to cooperate?" he asked.

"Well, Bobby talked the owner of the hotel into it somehow and he helped us convince the people you talked to."

"How did you know what we'd do next?"

At that, Asher raised an eyebrow, and with it, the corner of her mouth in a smirk. "Dean, I've grown up in this business. I know how to hunt, and I know how you think. Figuring out your path was easy." She gave him a wide grin that showed just how drunk she really was. "You're easy."

Dean rolled his eyes again, but found himself smiling. "So you guys did this because Bobby thought we needed a break?"

"We all need a break eventually. Amelia and I go home. You guys don't have a home, so we thought we'd do something for you. So how about we go eat some pizza and cheeseburgers, drink some beer and have a good time?"

"You already seem to be having a good time."

"Well," she said, stepping closer to him, "Amelia and I had to do something while waiting for you to get here."

"And naturally you broke into the beer?"

She shrugged again and smiled a smile that was devious, even for her. "It _is _Christmas."

"I suppose."

Asher and Dean joined Sam and Amelia in their Christmas feast. It didn't take long for the four of them to annihilate the food, especially after trying, and failing, to sing whichever Christmas carols came to mind. Amelia ended up singing most of them, loudly and high-pitched. They were well into the beer when attention turned to the two badly-wrapped packages under the tree, and when Sam questioned who they were for, Amelia took great pleasure in making a show out of handing each of the boys a gift. She exclaimed at the top of her lungs that they were just small gifts from her and Asher and that she hoped they liked them.

After Sam had unwrapped his book about demons—it was a seriously old book Amelia had uncovered on the last trip back to Austin's house and had just about everything you could ever want to know about demons in it—and Dean had pulled his new sawed off shotgun out of its wrapping—it too, was a treasure uncovered at Austin's, and it was almost identical to the one Asher had, but the metal work was far more intricate and it was clear whoever had made the gun had loved it—the four hunters settled into a rough pile on the floor. Asher and Dean were leaning against the wall, staring up at the lights, and Sam and Amelia were lying on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. The basement became quiet and comfortable and the pairs fell into private conversations. Asher produced a bottle of blueberry-flavoured vodka from somewhere and her and Dean were passing it back and forth, each taking lengthy sips and savouring each swallow.

"You two are weird, you know that?" Dean said as he passed the bottle back to Asher.

She looked at him over the bottle. "Yeah? So two are you… I mean, so are two you… No, that's not right…"

"I got it, I got it." Dean pulled the bottle from her lips and took another swig. "But I mean this whole thing," he said, waving his arms wildly and spilling some of the clear liquid on the floor.

"Heeey," Asher whined.

He gave her back the bottle and gestured again. "I can't believe you did all this."

She shrugged, the motion causing her to slip sideways, since she was pressed against the wall, and end up with her head leaning on Dean's shoulder. He put his head on hers and the bottle sat on the floor, forgotten to Asher's right. "You two and Bobby and Jo and Ellen are all we've got," Asher explained, putting a little too much emphasis on the "t" and spitting. "Since the other three couldn't get here… it's just us four." Asher looked at her sister and Sam on the floor, both of whom had fallen asleep and were snoring softly. "Or, just us two."

"Maybe we should get them upstairs."

"Naw… Not right now, anyway. We still have all this vodka to finish." She held up the hand the bottle had last been seen in, and blinked at the empty air. "Did you eat the bottle?"

"No. It's over there," he said, pointing.

She looked at the bottle. "Oh." Asher turned back to him, her blue eyes intense, even though the drunken haze. "Hey Dean."

"Hi?"

"Merry Christmas." Asher kissed him then, and somewhere in the part of her brain that was still thinking somewhat rationally, she was glad Amelia wasn't awake to see it.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Christmas is All Around - Bill Nighy, Love Actually soundtrack.

So this fic was actually finished on time. Hurrah for me!

I hope everyone had a great Christmas and here's wishing you all a Happy New Year. I am now the proud owner of a lot of new Batman-related things and some weird presents including Star Trek waffles. That's right. You heard me.

And I know I kind of copped out on the ending here. Forgive me for being tired and not wanting to think up some complicated explanation to the whole hoax Asher, Amelia and Bobby cooked up. The drunkenness at the end is just pure fun. Well, the whole fic was pure fun. It was something Shauna and I came up with and I decided to write. Mostly, it's just for the two of us to enjoy, but if anyone took any amusement out of this, then great! Christmas is about fun and joy and good times, after all.

Anyways, now I get to add this one to my completed list. That deserves another hurrah!

**The End! **


End file.
